


Years Gone By

by MadamRogers



Series: Years Gone By [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, F/M, Letter, Longing, Phone Call, reader - Freeform, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRogers/pseuds/MadamRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers gets a letter his friend [y/n] wrote back in 1950s. He got a phone number with the letter and makes a call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Years Gone By

_Steve,_

_I don’t know where you are. The last time I saw you, you smiled to me and looked me in the eye, embraced me. You embraced me with the same arms which held me whenever I needed that the most. You were always there; when I cried, when I was happy and every time I was uncertain about something. We smiled, because when you smiled, I smiled too. It was easy for me to be certain and whole when you were that too. It was easy for me to look you in the eye, you of all people in the world, because you believed in me. And I believed in you, I still do. You smiled to me, and it was the last time I saw you smiling._

_That was long ago. That’s fine, Steve. You always let people wait for you. Like when we had that deal about the movie. I waited for two hours in a horrible rain, but you never showed up. Bucky came and told me that you were sick again. I came there next to your bed when you were coughing so roughly that your small body hit the bed harder and harder. You apologized when your blue eyes were red because of the tears caused by that cough. That night I spent next to your bed, I read to you and Bucky, who sat on the other side of the bed and looked after you, took care of you like a brother takes care of his brother. I was the girl, who wanted nothing more than read all day long and tire you with it. Maybe it tired you, but you never said anything. I had time to do so, because time was only thing I had. I remember when you read to me too. It was springtime, I had been running in the city whole day, and you made me stop. I lay down, my head was on your lap, and eyes closed I listened to your beautiful voice when you read your favorite book to me. I loved it. Did I ever say that I loved it? And you. You were small, but it didn’t tell anything about you as a person. To me you were like the big brother I never had._

_Five years. For five years I’ve been waiting, hoping that you return, because I know that you’ll come back. You always come back. I’ve read your favorite books over and over again, saved them all from those who wouldn’t treat them like they deserve to be treated. I’ve been looking at the horizon during the red dawn. I’ve wanted it to bring you back. It will bring you back. You’re on your way home, I know that. My super soldier, my hero. That’s what you’ve always been to me. The hero. Since the day I met you and Bucky, you two have been my heroes. The Second World War… You were my heroes long before that, and every time the Memorial Day comes, I light two candles on the windowsill for my heroes._

_You are not dead. I know that. That Steve Rogers, who tried five times, won’t fall that easily. Captain America. That name suits you well. I think I never said how well it suits you. I’m proud of you and what you’ve become. Erskine was right. You’re not a perfect soldier, but you’re a good man, and that’s enough. That’s enough for that Howling Commandos raise a toast for you even today. They ask me to join them, and I go to listen how they honor you, how they use your name and words ‘a friend’ and ‘a hero’ in the same sentence. They still love and honor you. They think you fell too soon. They drink two rounds, maybe three and they cry. When I see those strong men crying, I’m filled with a feeling that the war isn’t over. Its end was announced- we won, Steve. But still we lost a lot. And we lost ones sit around that round table and raise a toast and another for you. There’s a place for you around the table. It’s next to me; the empty chair is waiting for you to sit. I imagine you sitting there in your uniform, the shield leans against chair’s foot next to you. Your face is like a soldier’s, and those eyes of yours have seen everything, but they still have this familiar gaze. There’s pressure on your shoulders, but you don’t let it push you down. You raise a toast with your right hand, there’s a smile dancing on the corner of your mouth, a smile which you didn’t know about. You toast with Howling Commandos, your smile’s waltz is slowing down and soon it’s just a memory. You turn your gaze, your whole upper body and look at me, touch my glass with yours. Now you’re smiling. Smiling the same smile which makes me believe in myself, makes me stronger than I thought I could ever be. You’re present, and I’m small when I’m next to you. You nod like you’d accept my shy tears and look me with your blue eyes. That gaze makes me whole, your presence around that round table makes me whole, and I don’t need anything else. Every single breath, heartbeat, even the smallest movement of my mind is on its right place when you’re sitting there where you belong._

_And then I see that you’re not there; your image is fading like the smoke of a cigarette, and the tears dry on my cheeks. I miss you, Steve. I miss you so much and I don’t know how I see every day turn into a night and a new morning rising after it. If I’d let myself think that you’re dead, I wouldn’t be able to. I know I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t see the red dawn anymore. I said my goodbyes to you like I said to Bucky when he left with you, and he never came back. That was too much, and I won’t let myself think that you’re not coming back. Someday you’ll come, someday we will meet and then we smile. We smile because we both know. We stand face to face; you’re so strong again, like nothing ever happened. There’s nothing we need to say. Three words, Steve. I know you know. There is a tombstone for you, they put it up when they said you’re dead, and to that tombstone I whisper those three words because I don’t believe what the stone says. I whisper those words to it and I hope that you hear them wherever you are._

_Always and forever, Steve. Till the end of the line._

_With love, [y/n]_

 

Steve put the letter down, looked at its last line and signature. He looked at that longer than anything else until he let himself turn his gaze towards a little piece of paper. It had been upon the letter, but now it was on the table. There was a phone number on it. The little paper had been fastened on the letter with a paper clip, what may tell that it was fresh and that number was still available.

 

Rogers hesitated. His hand was shaking a little when he took his phone closer to him and stopped there. The date on the letter was at the end of the year 1950. [y/n] had been about 31 years old. Could she have lived until this day believing that Steve was still alive? What if the phone number would lead him to someone close to her and that person would tell that [y/n] died long time ago? Rogers swallowed and hoped for the best.

 

The phone was ringing for ages. Steve was just about to give up when he heard shaking, a little unsure female voice from the other side of the line. “Hello?” Only one word and then silence.

 

Steve was silent for a moment, tried to believe what he heard. The voice was changed, but he recognized it. He pressed his fingers against his phone and asked silently, “[y/n]?”

 

There was a breath. “Steve?” The female asked. It was possible to hear that she was crying. “Is it you? You… You’re alive… You came back.”

 

“[y/n], it’s me. I came back,” Steve had to hang on; otherwise he would’ve cried too. He listened to the old lady’s words which were said while crying.

 

[y/n] still cried on the phone when they had shared many sentences, and Steve held old lady’s letter again. Years had gone by, but everything felt like [y/n] had written the letter yesterday. Happiness and relief in her voice, her words told something what she didn’t say out loud; there had happened a lot during the years after the war, but [y/n] had never forgotten her hero. She had protected the hero’s place around the round table until these days, waited for her hero to return, whispered those three words to the tombstone which never was true to her. Till the end of the line, she had written. And that she had done. She had been waiting till the end of the line and never lost her hope.


End file.
